


argumentum ad populum

by ErinHasse



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Crime, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, So much angst, Sorry Not Sorry, Unbeta'd, Woops, and snark all around, eventually, fuck it, miiiiild horror, noir, y'know what?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinHasse/pseuds/ErinHasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, Judy does get fired -- breaking protocol, unlawful arrest, the prejudice of her mega-fauna coworkers and no, there is no saving grace from the machinations of a hateful sheep or the program of a self-absorbed mayor.<br/>And, yes, she has failed both herself and her dreams, and all with her own two hands.<br/>But.<br/>Judy has saved people in her brief time in the force, and while not always, no good deed goes unpaid. Not this time, at least.<br/>(That doesn't mean, however, that Judy's managed to untangle herself from the conspiracies.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Judy staggers out of Bogo’s office and hears the door slam shut behind her.

 

Gone, it echoed in her mind, gone, done.

 

She was done.

 

That was it.

 

Judy feels her knees weaken and her arms shake and what…

 

…what is she supposed to do _now?_

 

She goes to her desk and tries not to pay attention to the low murmurs of her coworkers, tries to concentrate on not leaving anything behind, tries not to pay attention to the lump in her throat and the burning behind her eyes and—

 

And _really_ _now_ , she should be…should be…holding her head high, or, wearing a grin, _or_ , proud that she _still did what she could do_ , _or_ …

 

…Or.

 

“Judy?”

 

 Judy looks up and blinks rapidly, the burn behind her eyes steadily getting worse along with her vision and she swallows down needles and feels them grate against the edges of her dry, _dry_ throat.

 

But that hardly matters.

 

She looks down at her paws and sees them shaking against the hard wood of her desk, and she closes them into fists, squaring her shoulders before looking up and getting an eyeful of cheetah.

 

Clawhauser.

 

And dammit, _dammit_ it was _pity_ , fucking **_pity_** _,_ and she _hates_ it, but didn’t hate him, _couldn’t_ hate him, because it’s _Clawhauser_ for god’s sake, but—

 

Judy swallows again and tries for a big smile, falling short pathetically and both of them knowing it.

 

“I was…,” she still keeps it though, keeps the remaining shreds of her pride on her face with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, and waves ( _flops_ ) a paw over her ex-desk. She’s going to miss it.

 

He nodds, almost uncertainly, and his paws are up against his chest and twisting at his shirt, and says, _blurts_ out, really, “I’m gonna miss you.”

 

Judy stares in eloquent response.

He flushes, “I mean, I know, I _know_ we haven’t known each other all that long or…or all that _well_ either and _gosh—_ I sound stupid but,” he flashes her a smile, “You were still part of the team. So I’m going to miss you.”

Judy smiles up at him, a little more genuine, a little less heartbroken, her eyes getting all the more glassy, “ _Thank you._ ”

 

And she means it, of course she means it.

 

Clawhauser opens his arms and Judy lets herself be gathered in them, basking in the temporary warmth of a friend before letting herself back down.

 

She coughs, her throat a little less dry, eyes a little less glassy, her entire self a little less inclined to break into pieces in the station, “Thank you, Claw—”

 

“Benjamin,” he says, and Judy’s small, broken ‘smile’ made of upturned lips splits into a genuine, if wobbly, grin.

 

“Benjamin,” she repeats, nods, and the cheetah opens his mouth to say something until—

 

“ _Who the fuck is manning the front desk?!_ ”

 

Judy’s eyes widens, and her shoulders tense and Benjamin swats at the air like _that_ was going to help, but.

 

They look at each other.

 

Benjamin’s entire frame sags but keeps his smile on and reassuring, bringing a paw up to squeeze Judy’s shoulder, “You can still make it, whatever you want to be,” he says sincerely, warmly, “See you later, Hopps.”

 

And then the rest of her clearing turns into a blur because she can’t get to Benjamin again, people too eager to give her the boot, can only empty her workspace and fill her boxes and she is practically kicked out the door before 15 minutes was up.

 

Judy stars at the doors of her failed dreams and the finished paperwork in her hands and tries to fight back the new onslaught of that familiar burn stinging the back of her eyes.

 

But she doesn’t let herself cry, doesn’t let herself sob, not even when she reaches her sad excuse for an apartment and turns on the radio to find more depressing songs, not even when her neighbors blow sharp digs into her shredded self-esteem, not even when her parents (- _good lord her parents what was she going to **tell** them—_)  call and she can’t bring herself to face them.

 

Nope.

 

Not even if the _entire goddamn city goes into a riot._

(But if her neighbors hear her quietly wet her pillow with salty tears, not crying, not sobbing, but _breaking into pieces and desperately trying to **pull** herself back together again,_ then they didn’t say anything.)

 


	2. audencia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy has a...mild breakdown in the streets and Fru Fru-ex-machina.

So.

Judy stays in her apartment for a day, or two, or _whatever_ because she isn’t really tracking the days when there’s nothing more than static in stuffing her head and snot clogging her airways.

 

Speaking of, she takes a tissue from the dresser beside her bed and blows her nose. Ugh.

 

She slips out of her sheets and slides her feet over the side of the bed.

 

She would like to say that she did not, in fact, throw herself a pity party, but she did not have a good excuse to herself, or anyone who might visit (ha ha) when taking in the view of a dozen empty carrot-related pastry wrappers. And candy. And ice cream. All on the floor.

 

Judy half-drags, half-limps herself to the tiny desk she has tucked away in the corner, filled nearly to the ceiling with unopened food, passing her half-dead cell phone and collapsing on the chair and letting her head fall on the hard surface of her desk. And again. And again.

 

_Snap out of it—_

_You can do it—_

_Shut…UP—!_

Because there is a part of her screaming, _raging,_ tearing at herself and her walls and her defense, trying to salvage what is left from her failure and trying to build herself back together again into someone at least half-way presentable to her parents, her family, herself.

 

She blinks, vision still blurry and looks up because—

 

_Knock, knock._

Ah, yes, her delightful neighbors. Judy sinks back down to the table, eyes screwing shut and paws coming up to pull her ears down. Maybe if she pretends she’s not here they’ll go away.

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

And so on and so forth, again and again, for a few minutes until even Judy’s patience wears thin and she resigns herself to walking over to the door.

 

She opens it and finds her landlord staring at her. She stares back.

 

Her landlord is a porcupine named Zed, and his arms are crossed over his chest, and says, “Your pay.”

 

“My…pay?,” she finishes, uncertainly, until it hits her. Her pay. Her _pay, “My rent pay,”_ she whispers in silent horror.

 

“Yes,” Zed replies, nodding, and saying the next sentence as though talking to a small child, “Your rent. You need to pay it. Your deadline was three days ago.”

 

Judy smiles, ignoring the sharp stab in her chest and the emotions bleeding out in result, gathering at the edges of her eyes and threatening to spill over, “Okay, I’ll get it as soon as I can—”

 

“You have the rest of the day, or I’m kicking you out.” he says, curtly, then walks off, leaving Judy to stare the wall, the floor, at nothing at all.

 

The rest of the day.

* * *

 

 

And the morning of the rest of the day goes like this:

 

“ _Excuse me, I—_ ”

 

Slam.

 

“ _I’d like to see if you can offer me—_ ”

 

“ _No can do, bunny, we’re already cutting our losses._ ”

 

Close.

 

“ _Could you please—_ ”

 

“ _We don’t need your dead weight here.”_

 

Shut.

 

“ _I—_ ”

 

“I’m sorry,” the giraffe behind the counter says, almost sincerely, but not really, “But the offer’s been taken off the table.”

 

“Oh,” Judy says, ears already down behind her and her upturned lips pulling down, “I’m…”

 

( _Tired, tired, she was so tired_ )

 

“I’m sorry too,” she finishes weakly, throat clogging again, and walks out the doors.

 

She looks at the newspaper in her hands _,_ sees so many, many red lines and rejections.  She is only half-way through.

 

There is an ad for ZPD recruitments, the line staring up at her from the paper, almost _mockingly_ , “ _…Because in Zootopia anyone can be anything! So join—!_ ”

 

Judy stops before too long.

That doesn’t stop her lips from curling and her nose from wrinkling and her fingers from tightening ever so slightly over the paper.

* * *

 

 

_And here we go again:_

 

“You won’t be able to handle it.”

 

Slam.

 

_“Please—”_

 

A pair of eyes rolling at her., “Look, just go back home and leave the real professional here, ”and shut.

 

“ _May I—”_

 

They laugh at her face, “ _Weren’t you that bunny who got fired? Nice going,_ ” and close the door.

 

Judy stares at the door, the floor, at nothing at all.

 

Her day is over.

 

She’s done.

 

Shakily, slowly, moving her arm upwards like a newborn bunny, legs hardly supporting her and she finds her list done, her list crossed out with so much _red_ the paper may as well be dripping with it.

 

Her eyes trail down and her last hope in the form of a small wedding dress shop is crossed out in red, too.

 

Slowly, unwillingly, her eyes catch _ZPD_ and

 

**_Anyone_ **

and

 

**_Anything_ **

 

 _And_ —

 

She looks at her own failure and sees an ad for _ZPD_ _recruitment_ and her lips curl, her stomach twists and something _breaks_ **_and_** —

 

There is nothing, _and everything and she snaps_ —

 

Can’t _hear_ —

 

_“…Miss?”_

Nothing but a loud _ringing_ in her _ears_ —

 

_“Holy shit—”_

_“Someone—…. 911—!”_

_And_ —

 

_“…Oh…oh my…miss bunny!...miss bunny!...”_

_“Get away—no!”_

_“Don’t record, you jackass—!”_

* * *

 

And for a while Judy sees nothing but _red_ and te _a_ rs and the _frustration_ building in her

* * *

 

“Ma’am, please—”

* * *

 

 something _spilling,_ something _breaking_ and letting out molten and heat and _fire_ and

* * *

 

 

 she bites down on her lip until it _bleeds_ to make sure the scream clawing up her throat _doesn’t escape don’t let it escape you can’t—_

* * *

 

_“Miss!”_

And then Judy comes back to herself, finds blood dripping down her chin and the paper in shreds at her feet and animals, so many animals, standing over her, eyes watching her.

 

She draws in a shaky breath, ignoring the error flooding her face. She looks at her paws and sees them shake.

 

The tips of her ears burn, and _oh no,_ she chants, sinking down to her knees and desperately pulling at her ears, _oh no no no_

_“Is the bunny losing it, mom?”_

 

She tries to stand and finds her knees failing her, and oh _no no no._

 

_“Let’s just go, Tim.”_

 

_“Damn. Poor kid.”_

 

“ _Can’t handle the stress, I guess.”_

 

She wants to run.

 

Someone laughs, “ _What a loser.”_

 

Judy gasps, desperate for air.

 

_“…hey, isn’t that the bunny who got herself fired?”_

 

_“Oh yeah.”_

 

_“Karma, man, givin’ out those damn tickets like she knows what she’s doin’—“_

She winces.

_“Country hick.”_

 

She deflates.

 

_“Failure.”_

 

And she curls into herself, trying to disappear and never, ever coming back to this thrice-damned city again but

 

Something taps at her arms.

 

Judy feels something faintly wiping at the blood, maybe, and looks down to see a small shrew with _really nice_ hair and a small handkerchief stained red forever.

 

She chokes, inches back, away from the bears and the shrew and the crowd, horror clawing up her back like tendrils sprouting from the ground to suffocate her.

 

But.

 

Her back hits the back of a polar bear’s legs, and she watches through blurry eyes as he glares at the crowd. They turn on their heels and leave…mostly.

 

One of them refuses, holding a phone up and Judy tries to hide her face but a small, squeaky voice growls out, “Hey! Leave already, you jerk!” and it was the shrew. Judy tries to get up.

 

One of the bears go to her side, catch her arm, almost gently coaxes her from running from them and _was she really so obvious?_

No wonder she got fired.

“Miss Bunny, do you need to go to the hospital?” the shrew asks, eyes wide and sincere and _actually concerned,_ and it was a novelty, really, in this city where she’s been turned away over and over and _over_.

 

“I—,” and the next word gets choked into the shame clogging her throat, blood coming out from the cut over her lip and Judy tries, _tries_ not to let herself drown.

 

The shrew rushes forward, laying a tiny hand over Judy’s paw flat on the cold, hard cement of the sidewalk and says, gently, “You must not remember me,” her tiny voice is soothing, somehow, a kindness in it Judy has gone the entire stay in her city without, “You saved me from that donut, and I saw you then I thought, like, I never did get to thank you for _that._ ”

 

And the shrew smiles, “My name is Fru Fru, and I’d really like it if you can come for dinner with me, Miss Bunny.”

 

 

* * *

 

And she does (after a quick trip to the bathroom to both freshen up and possibly bang her head on the wall), because one, Judy is hungry, hasn’t eaten a single scrap of food all day, and two, Fru Fru had threatened to never leave her side until Judy complied, even cracking out a pathetic shadow of a smirk from the bunny, which leads to introducing herself along with a few pleasantries.

 

(Though there is a part of Judy that suspects the shrew was only half-joking.)

 

Also because she wanted to leave that street and never come back to it, ever.

 

One of the bears, Kevin, as he’d introduced himself prior, is standing at their table, staring down animals until they either cry or runaway because they _recognized her_ and the other is at the fancy glass doors of the restaurant.

 

Speaking of.

 

Judy, despite herself and her reddened eyes, observes the restaurant with awe – all velvet floors and golden chandeliers with the tables, not barring the one they are sitting on, made of polished redwood and undoubtedly more expensive than her apartment.

 

_Furniture included._

 

Fru Fru sits across from her, tiny chair and table, _on_ the table, a matching tiny version of the gourmet dish Judy could not pronounce in front of her.

 

Judy looks down and is almost afraid of the way it shines ‘rich and expensive’ at her.

 

“Go on, Judy!” Fru Fru says, lifting a tiny fork, “I ordered tonight’s special for both of us!”

 

“…Okay,” Judy whispers in reply, not quite trusting her voice, because yes, she has checked the menu, and it says that this dish is worth two months of her rent, and eats.

 

Judy brightens instantaneously, because it is _heavenly._

 

“Okay!” Fru Fru chirps, clapping her hands, “So, like, I did say I wanted to thank you for saving me.”

 

The shrew pauses and smiles up at Judy.

 

Judy blinks.

 

“…It’s no problem,” Judy tries for a smile and manages to execute something, “It’s…It _was_ my job.”

 

Fru Fru frowns, and catches the implication, because she is _spoiled_ , not _stupid_ , “What?”

 

“I got,” _oh no, not again, Judy, Judy pull yourself together c’mon_ , “I got…,” she swallows, instead and says, “I don’t…work for the ZPD. Anymore.”

 

And somehow saying it makes it all the more real, makes Judy stare at her situation in its unforgiving face.

 

(But that churning in her stomach somehow lightens, the twists and curls of her insides lessening.)

 

Fru Fru gasps, fork clanging to the table and says, “ _What_?!—”

 

And she stops herself, leaving Judy to watch in mild fascination as she calls for Kevin. The bear takes the shrew in his hands and she whispers sharply in his ear, before they both look at Judy.

 

Judy’s stomach sinks.

 

But it’s for nothing, because Fru Fru’s eyes alight with warmth when she is put down to stroll toward the bunny, and pats Judy’s paw, “I know we’ve just met,” she says, lightly, “But, like, you saved my _life_. That’s not something small, so,” and she beams up at Judy, small hands taking in Judy’s paw, “I’d really like it if you come for dinner tomorrow, too. Just one isn’t enough. Maybe we can be friends, too!”

 

Judy stares, ears slow perking up before something bubbles up her throat and escapes through her mouth before she can stop it.

 

She laughs, small and brittle, and says, “I’d…like that, Fru Fru.”

 

And she does.

* * *

 

 

They wave goodbye after half an hour of chatting about Gazelle and pop trends, Fru Fru leaving in her limo while Judy is left to go back to her building via foot.

 

But that’s alright.

 

When she gets home she finds her phone’s screen flashing at her with missed calls from her parents (she winces) but then it rings and she sees:

 

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]: Judy? It’s Benjamin._

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]:  Clawhauser, I mean.  How are ya? :)_

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]:  Like, you probably need space or something but here’s my phone number if you need anything!_

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]: Um._

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]: Text back, okay?_

_[ **UNKNOWN** ]: G’night~! :D_

 

And Judy doesn’t stop the small laugh from escaping between her lips, falling back on her bed and secretly letting herself hope once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god this’ll be happy soon (though that last scene with Fru Fru is considered happy-ish by my standards), so don’t lynch me, please.
> 
> This was heavily based from my own sister’s similar experiences after being fired from her dream job, pity party and all.
> 
> Oh, can someone please tell me if I somehow missed letters or misused words too? Thanks.  
> Edit: I completely forgot to mention, this happens after Mrs. Otterton walks in, and Judy demands for the case, and after a string of events I won't mention, gets fired. There's no Bellwether or Mammals Forward to really help her, as in this universe Judy got into the force through sheer stubbornness and hard work. And people are downright itching to get rid of her. So no, no Nick. Not yet.


	3. princeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blueberries.

_[ **Benjamin** ]: So, did I ever tell you about that one time_

_[ **Benjamin** ]: We had a Christmas party, or something like that_

_[ **Benjamin** ]: And I thought, like_

_[ **Benjamin** ]: What if I showed up as Santa Claws?!_

_[ **Benjamin** ]:…It wasn’t my best idea. Nobody recognized me -_-_

_[ **Benjamin** ]: Everyone called me Benny Claws afterwards_

_{Changing screen name.}_

_[ **BennyClaws** ]: Judy_

_[ **BennyClaws** ]: Judy please don’t change my screen name to Benny Claws_

_[ **Judy** ]: Sent screenshot._

_[ **BennyClaws** ]: O.M.Goodness._

_[ **BennyClaws** ]: You have lost your donut-sharing rights with me forever_

 

Judy snorts and makes a note to pointedly swipe a donut from under Ben’s nose whenever they meet, and puts her phone down to brave the view of…

 

…of a non-existent floor.

 

Judy stares, and starts to slowly put a foot down on the sea of trash that had somehow accumulated within the past few days.

Something snaps back at her from the abyss and she shrieks and pulls her foot up.

 

One of her neighbors bang on their shared wall, shouting a profanity of some sort that Judy doesn’t bother to make out, and she crawls across her bed to grab the broom leaning against the edge.

 

She peers at the abyss.

 

The abyss returns her scrutiny with several suspicious crackling among the wrappers.

 

She tightens her grip on the handle of the broom and starts.

Three hours, six garbage cans, and one piece of old fanfiction from _ye olde days_ burnt without hesitation on the spot later, Judy wipes off the sweat gathered on her forehead and looks over her relatively clean room.

 

It’s still fantastically crappy, but it _is_ clean, and Judy labels it ‘good enough.’

 

She tosses the broom to the side.

 

* * *

 

She marches downstairs, people sometimes going out of their way to avoid her like she’s carrying a new strain of rabies, but she decides not to care, and goes straight to the landlord’s office.

 

Zed does not look amused at her interruption of his morning dramas, coffee in hand and one irritated eyeball squinting at her.

 

But Judy has been at the brunt of worse looks, and she goes in anyway and sits primly on the chair in front of his desk, “Give me a week more and I’ll move out,” she says, her back straight and voice hard, but the hands on her lap trembling slightly.

 

“Why should I?” he asks flatly, going back to his dramas. One of the characters sobs about an illegitimate child. Arguments ensue.

 

Judy’s ear twitches, and says, “Eviction laws.”

 

He turns to her full this time, both eyes half-lidded, “And what would you know about eviction laws, bunny?”

 

He spits out the word ‘bunny’ like a curse and Judy smiles wide, all teeth, “Ten-day notice of eviction when I can’t pay in time, I know that, and it’s fully within your right, but that’s just for _filing_ the eviction and then there are court orders and proceedings, plus the fines. And if you just kick me out without all that…”

 

The threat isn’t there, but it lingers on the last words of her sentence, trembling in the air.

 

Zed narrows his eyes at her, quills quivering behind him but not rising, and Judy takes that as a good sign.

 

“…A week it is,” he grumbles into his coffee, “Not get out of my office.”

 

Judy nods, stands up on weak, shaking knees and walks out.

* * *

 

Judy registers the stares of the other tenants following her as she walks down her hall and tells herself she doesn’t mind.

 

She goes back to her room and looks over her cleared desk, spotting her bank book and cringing so hard her face scrunches up into itself.

 

But.

 

Judy walks over and decides to flip it open, because how else is she going to finish this, and sees that she has about 150 dollars and 60 cents to her name, and lets her head fall on to the desk.

 

She tells herself that she can do this, and shoves away doubts nibbling at the ends of her thoughts.

* * *

 

She checks papers and ads, grimacing when flashes of the horrible day before arise and the familiar anger snapping away at her blood comes, but she pushes that away, too.

 

She marks down potentials with blue ink and notes that the time is 5:30. In the afternoon.

 

She tilts her head to the side, and puts down the paper before getting up.

* * *

 

FruFru arrives on a limo with Kevin and Raymond at 6, on the dot, and the shrew waves at her excitedly from the open window.

 

 

She hears one of the tenants behind her gasp and Zed choke on his coffee at the sight of such luxuries and Judy grins in a way that’s entirely smug. Kevin gets out of the limo and opens the door for her, stony faced.

 

She can’t quite read it.

 

FruFru picks up the conversation where they left off, giggling over trends and Gazelle, but Judy notices they pass restaurant after restaurant, and her curiosity is piqued.

 

“Where are we going exactly?” she asks, because she knows this road, and it leads to Tundratown.

 

“Daddy wants to meet you,” Fru Fru informs her, “I think he wants to thank you personally.”

 

And wow. Uh. Judy stares at the shrew and tries to formulate a response, settling for : “…I’m not…what?”

 

FruFru grins and graciously pretends that she is not the only one who understands the conversation, and says, “Daddy’s always been kindest to animals who did me a service, or whatever, and the second he heard about that donut-thing in Little Rodentia, he wanted to throw a party in your honor!”

 

Judy blinks, then stares, then squints at Raymond who snorts at her face.

 

“FruFru,” Judy starts, not knowing how to react, and sees the shrew beaming up at her, “…Thank you,” she says, instead, and smiles back at her.

 

But as fate, or rather a pre-construed plot has it; the moment is effectively ruined when the car screeches to a stop, nearly sending both of them to the front of the car.

 

Raymond, who is driving, growls at someone and Judy leans to the side, peeking out the window to see red fur, and a long tail of the same color ending with a black tip.

 

Her stomach drops.

 

The figure turns to give an irritated gesture at Raymond, but pauses when he sees her, eyes locking with hers and Judy sinks down, slowly, to the floor. Fru Fru starts and is quietly asking her what’s wrong.

 

 _So many things,_ Judy thinks, feeling eyes following her _dignified_ descent down to the floor of the car.

 

Judy’s eyes flick towards the front of the limo to catch Raymond and Kevin exchanging blank stares, with the latter breaking eye contact first to growl at the figure.

 

The animal outside of the limo flinches, instantly turning on his heel and running far, far away.

 

Judy knows this, hears the rapid footfalls fade away quickly, but cannot bring herself to look out the window.

 

…

 

The rest of the ride is spent in silence.

 

 

* * *

 

They arrive and Judy is not too surprised to see the mansion towering above her with pretty lights and shining in a way that’s almost condescending in the face of her cheap, second-hand clothes.

She is not bothered, however, because Fru Fru is right beside her and introducing her to the many shrew and other animals invited as well. The introductions consisted of idle pleasantries and thinly-veiled insults geared towards her clothes and it makes Judy smile wide, all teeth.

It gets a few of the shrews to back off.

 

Fru Fru seems to find it amusing, though, and Judy doesn’t have a good idea why.

 

Dinner comes after several shady antics that have the end result of Raymond looking at them over his muzzle with an exasperated expression, arms crossed over his chest.

 

Judy and Fru Fru give each other a secret high-five, covered in leaves, dirt under their feet, and a few twigs sticking out of their fur, as guiltless as troublemaking children.

 

Raymond looks like they’ve taken a few decades out of his lifespan.

 

“What were you even doing?,” he asks, rubbing at his muzzle.

 

Fru Fru smiles wide.

 

But, dinner comes, and Judy is inching away from a table housing another set of tables, all filled with gourmet dishes she could not, yet again, pronounce. And dishes that,yet again, shine. Unnaturally.

 

Her eyes flick over the dining area, walls painted a cool shade of dark blue, the moonlight streaming in from the outside through windows five times her height, the floors covered in fine, red carpets.

 

Judy feels slightly off her element.

 

Fru Fru nudges at her from her spot, saying, “Daddy’s coming. Over, I mean, he just finished his meeting.”

 

Judy nods, mumbling, “Okay.”

 

Fru Fru winces faintly, and continues, “And he wants to, um, like, interview you. For a job.”

 

Judy damn well near choked to death on her own food.

 

“What?!” the bunny whisper-yells, and the shrew shrugs almost uncertainly.

 

Someone reaches in front of her to take her plate, and Judy gapes at her friend, “I’ve never even met him!”

 

“Well,” Fru Fru starts, laughing a bit, looking at the delicious blueberry and cream cheese pie being set in front of her, “Daddy’s never predictable. I think he’s just trying to help you. Or something. I’m actually not all that sure.”

 

“But why?” Judy asks, picking up a fork, brow furrowed and cutting into the pie, “It’s not like…”

 

“Maybe he just likes your background? Daddy always hires valedictorians you see, he says that most are ‘hard-workers’ and it’s pretty easy to root out those who aren’t.”

 

Judy blinks, looking at her friend before looking at her food, “I’m…Did you tell him about it?”

 

It, being Judy’s miserable week due to…

 

Fru Fru winces, “I might’ve mentioned it in passing. I didn’t think he’d go this far!”

 

“I’m not mad, Fru,” Judy says, putting down her fork, “But you gotta tell me about these things. If I knew I might’ve…I don’t know, dressed up? Mentally readied myself? Or…I’m just...not ready, right now, Fru,” she finishes lowly, eyes sinking to the floor, “I’m sorry.”

 

Fru Fru gets up, patting at Judy’s paw and saying, “No. _I’m_ sorry. Do you want me to tell the brothers to call Daddy in advance?”

 

_So you don’t have to._

 

Judy smiles tiredly, “Please.”

 

And the shrew does so, waving Raymond over from the corner, momentarily disappearing from Judy’s line of sight. Her stomach lurches.

 

Then:

 

A soft snarl reaches her ears, and Judy looks to the side to see one shrew, covered in blueberry juice, trembling in his seat.

 

The bunny hears Kevin coming by, and Fru Fru appears once more.

 

“Uncle Ben?” Fru Fru mutters to herself, concerned. She and Judy look at each other, before the shrew gestures for her friend and one of the bears to come with her as she stands, wringing her hands nervously.

 

They approach while the others back off, mostly just irritated at the interruption of their dinner.

 

 _A case of indigestion, maybe?_ Judy thinks, already fishing her phone out to dial the emergency line when

 

“Both of you, step away. _Now,_ ” and Judy freezes on the spot.

 

Fru Fru spins beside her and calls out, “Daddy!”

 

And the bunny turns to see the biggest polar bear she’s ever laid eyes on, having to crane her head upwards and only seeing the _top_ of the sleek black suit.

 

Until he crouches down, lowering his hand to reveal a shrew, sitting on a gold-studded throne.

 

Despite herself, Judy squints.

 

Fru Fru’s brow furrows, like she can’t comprehend why her father would be telling her to step away from a relative. A fair point. Judy herself doesn’t understand either, until she turns around and sees foam gathering at Ben’s mouth.

 

Something like _ice_ douses Judy’s back, and she backs away, tugging Fru Fru just as they all hear glass breaking, a window from high up shattering down to all the guests.

 

She hears someone curse, hears animals break up and run because

 

Ben _snarls_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Bonus:**

“Not to be rude,” Judy started, carefully, trying not to be too obvious, “But _why?_ ”

Raymon looked up from where he was seated and she pointed at the mansion, decorated and well-lit, with a bewildered expression.

He snorted, “The family has a habit of taking every reason they come across to party. You’re one of them. And also because the Princess wanted to.”

Judy gaped at him, “But _why?!_ ”

The polar bear shrugged, picking out lint from his suit, “Honestly? They’re just procrastinating on their paperwork. It gets worse with each generation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this would be in three, four days? Haha…uh. Yeah. It’s up now, though?


	4. ferox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, guts, and glory, because everything has gone to hell. On the plus side, Nicky's coming.

 

Ben _snarls,_ and leaps upwards.

 

Several of the other guests scream loud enough to make Judy’s ears pop, but hardly enough to deter her when she grabs Fru Fru and vaults back. She lands on the far end of the long table with a dull _thud,_ plates clanging noisily back on to the table at the impact.  

 

Fru Fru shrieks when the bear – Koslov, Fru Fru tells her – lunges forward, making Judy’s eyes bulge out of her skull at the sheer speed he moved with. He catches Ben with nary a scratch, carefully avoiding the froth coming from his captive’s mouth.

 

Fru Fru’s father watches this in stoic silence from his golden throne, set safely down on the table.

 

Judy might think that he’s furious, but she’s not entirely sure.

 

There is a sharp hiss cutting through the air and Judy lets out a yelp and jumps forward, barely missing the blue bullets raining over them. She spots an empty throne in the midst of rolling down the table, Fru Fru carefully tucked against her. 

 

Another hit, another snarl – Judy scrambles to get up when another blue-covered shrew lunges at her. Hops side to side and stumbling over her feet when the cook comes out and tries to hit her with a knife.

 

She pulls back, feet skidding over the fine wood of the table.

 

Koslov comes. Hits the shrew away from them. Misses the other one. Judy’s head snaps side to side until she sees water.

 

She thinks, _Rabies, how did rabies get in here the infected are irritant to water—_

She takes it and splashes it over his face.

 

He sputters, letting out a low sound akin to that of a dying gazelle before collapsing limply. Judy winces at the mental image.

 

Carefully, slowly, Judy puts her friend down who immediately rushes towards her father in hysterics, “ _Daddy!_ ” she hears the shrew say, “We need to run—”

 

A sharp sting to the back of her head—

 

And _oh_?

 

Judy falls to her knees. _What the…hell?_

She only dimly registers the sound of another window shattering from above, everything in front of her swaying to a rhythm she can’t hear. Glass falls and makes little cuts all over her skin, her fur matted down with red.

 

She falls forward, catching herself with her paws. She pants and sees blood dripping down her arms and head and legs, and she emits a high, keening sound.

 

And then _splat,_ and Judy stares at blue.

 

It looks like a blueberry.

 

Her nose twitches and she smells copper and gunpowder, familiar smells from her days in the academy when she still had her dreams to hold on to.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Judy brings a paw up to where the red trickles down, dripping down the side of her face. She places it over her head and pulls it back to see blue and red.

 

And _oh._

So that’s what happened.

 

And—

 

Fru Fru is beside her somehow, wide-eyed and screaming, small hands trying to stem the flow. Her father is cursing at a tiny phone in hand, and looks at her through his heavy brow, and says, “Koslov, bring the children to my study.”

 

Judy did not anticipate this evening going so wrong, so fast. She feels herself being picked up by Raymond, maybe, but he is taller…? Slung over one large arm, her vision swims into watery images and she tries to swallow the bile climbing up her throat. Fru Fru is on the bear’s shoulder, face dripping with ruined make-up and Judy wants to say that it’s _okay, she fine, she’s can handle this,_ but she opens her mouth only to find blood bubbling out from her throat. She coughs, and it splashes all over the front of the bear’s suit.

 

She almost opens her mouth again to apologize, until she’s given a reprimanding stare from the bear. Kevin. Raymond. Maybe. She doesn’t know.

 

Her eyes droop, and she tries to glance back, tries to see what had happened. But her mind fails on her before she can register anything else, and she slips away.

 

* * *

 

The dining hall had long been deserted, the carpet stained with numerous bloody footprints, all cut on the glass shards raining down on them still, like a morbid light show designed to kill. It would have been amusing, had it not been _his_ dining room with _his guests_ injured and _his **daughter**_ caught in the crossfire.

 

His lips curls, paws taking out a tiny phone while Koslov hurries to the main study. He pauses, thumb hovering over the button, then presses _send._

 

They call him ‘Mr. Big’ – an old joke title from his younger years, intended to be a humorous, ironic joke until it caught on.  He doesn’t mind, it’s a good concealer for his actual identity, something detached to the name his daughter will carry. Had carried. He tries to remember she is married and succeeds in hiding his distaste.

 

His daughter is far too young to be married.

 

But. Continuing. Big presses send and peers up at the dark night outside his shattered windows, mindful of the glass still falling over him. He is hidden well in the shadows, having left his throne at the table when Judy Hopps was shot. (His phone does not glow either, leaving him perfectly concealed.)

 

There is a seventeen-story building across two streets from his abode that he remembers, the only place high-enough to get the angle on the mansion. Big mumbles under his breath, annoyed, and dials another number and hits ‘call,’ “Lovro,” he says, voice pinched, “I trust you are informed of the situation?”

 

There is a low, rumbling sound from the other end of the line, and Big smiles wide, all teeth, “Very good. Make haste and come to Delta,” he finishes, and ends the call.

 

His eyes, hidden under his heavy brow, flick over his ruined dining hall, the blood of his daughter’s favorite guest, and what appears to be some sort of new drug on the carpets, and sighs.

 

He pulls out gloves from his pockets and gets to work.

 

Several minutes later, he finds he has been betrayed, his family infiltrated, his food poisoned and this time he is the one who snarls at the terrified animal under his employment.

 

He drags the traitor, an otter, by the skin of his neck to the dining hall, and steps hard down on his face.

 

He holds the innocuous drug in one hand, mindful of its effects and pulls out his gun with the other, setting it on the cook’s temple, “I am a hard, but fair shrew,” he says, his solemn words not betraying the deep, abiding anger snapping at his blood, “And I am a believer of second chances,” he isn’t, not really, but he sees hope spring in the animal’s eyes and grins when he crushes it with his next words, “ _And you do not deserve it_.”

 

The cook falls limply to the floor, the dark space between his eyes smoking from the proximity of the shot, leaving a trail of gore behind him.

 

Big looks on in mild disgust, whipping out a handkerchief and cleaning the muzzle of his gun.

 

It will be annoying to clean up after this one’s footsteps, but Big has been in this business too long to really be worried anymore. Neither the ZPD nor the rest of the Zootopian government have ever landed on his territory.

 

He hears the doors open and the heavy footfalls of his men and turns to see Lovro and his men, and a sheep glaring at them like they are the scum of the earth, restrained and on her knees.

 

Not untrue, he supposes, and gestures to Lovro, “Bring the guest to the old rooms, ” he says, almost cheerfully, tucking his gun away, “Give her the _warmest welcome_ our Family has to offer,” he finishes, and strolls away.

 

Lovro looks amused, “Of course, Mr. Big,” and bows, his long ears touching the ground. Then he straightens and sends a smirk to the sheep snarling at them, her glasses falling off her nose, wool clothes dirty and tattered. He crouches down, filching her glasses, “Well, you don’t need these anymore now do you?” he smiles wide, all teeth. He crushes them in his paws.

 

“You’re betraying your species,” the sheep hisses, then wrenches her head back and spits at his face.

 

Lovro dodges to the side with ease, “Sure. Let’s go with that, Ms. Assistant-Mayor,” then he smiles, and kicks her in the stomach. The sheep hacks out bile at his feet.

 

He hums, hopping to the side with one foot, “Gross,” he chirps.

 

* * *

 

Nick is suspicious of the unidentified number sending a text to him, almost deletes it on sight until he remembers who owns that particular set of digits.

 

He pales under his fur and sputters, nearly letting his phone slip through his paws.

 

He clutches it, face cringing into itself and wonders how gruesome it is to go via ice if he doesn’t comply to whatever wish there is on the text.

 

Considering he doesn’t wish to die, not yet at least, he lets out a few more shudders and presses _open._

He peers at the text:

 

_Nicholas Wilde, you have yet to fulfill your end of our agreement. Come to the Tundra site dining hall tonight at 9 and your previous grievances will be cleared._

_Do not make me wait, child,_

_Mr. Big_

* * *

 

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: _Hey Judes!_

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: _Guess who got tickets to Gazelle’s new concert?!_

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: ( _Sending image.)_

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: ( _Image sent)._

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: _Yep! :D_

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: ?

[ **Benny** **Claws** ]: _Judes?_

[Caller ID [ **Benny Claws** ], is calling.]

_Hey. Are you okay?_

_I’m—_

_[crackle] – oh no—_

_Jud— can’t—_

_[crackle]_

_[ **bang** ]_

_Rrrr….rr.r.r.rrrrrRRr.r.rR—_

_[ **bang** ] _

_GggRaaah **AAHHHH** —_

_[click]_

[Call end.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should add horror to the tags.


	5. prohibere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky's here!

Big walks into his study ad nearly gets assaulted by Judy Hopps.

 

He elegantly steps aside, takes one of her paws and uses the momentum of her jump to flip her over his tiny shoulder and sends her crashing to the wall. Judy slides to the ground with a defeated noise coming from the back of her throat.

 

Fru Fru gasps, tiny hands flying to her mouth. Koslov stands to the side and watches the proceedings with stoic amusement while the princess trots to her friend.

 

“Did you or did you not send out a sample to the labs?” Big asks Koslov, slight annoyance making his brow twitch.

 

“I did, sir,” Koslov replies, eyes flicking once and only once towards intercom on his desk. Big sighs, and looks once more at the snarling mess that was once Judy Hopps. Interestingly enough, she does not attack his daughter. How curious.

 

Big tilts his head to the side, studying the growling, near-savage rabbit, snorts to himself and says, “Restrain her.”

 

Koslov obliges and Fru Fru lets s shriek tear out her throat, “ _Daddy—!_ ”

 

“ _Hush,_ sweetling,” Big soothes his daughter, who looks ready to wring his neck, “No harm will fall upon her. She is still an important guest, aggressive as she is. She’ll only be cuffed to a bed until an antidote is made.”

 

“But _Daddy—_ ”

 

“Hush,” he says, firmly, but not unkindly, “I’ll say no more on the matter. You should go to one of the secured chambers and rest, sweetling.”

 

Fru Fru’s shoulders tense, as though winding up energy for a screaming protest, but a gentle, reprimanding look from Koslov pushes the thought out of her mental hemisphere.

 

She slumps forward, and nods numbly before departing.

 

Big closes his eyes and wishes her goodnight, “I love you very much,” he punctuates, because he despises seeing his daughter like this, miserable and cold, and she mumbles the sentiment back to him.

 

Big and Koslov exchange a short, worrying glance, but their attention is quickly diverted to the growling bunny in Koslov’s hold.

 

Ah, right.

 

Big shakes his head to dispel his worries and straightens, “Tie her to one of the cots, Koslov. Make sure to check on the antidotes and contact if Lovro’s managed to find all of the sheep’s accomplices after wards.”

 

Koslov nods once, then turns to leave.

 

Big sighs, trying to somehow breathe out the stress this evening has piled on him, but feels his phone buzz in his pockets. He looks at the text sent to him and nearly wants to give in to the urge to shoot something for stress relief.

 

Nicholas is coming.

 

* * *

 

 

Nick walks, eyes flicking back and forth in his skull and trying not to let the beat of his heart drown out what could be signs to an attack.

 

Nick walks, finds nothing in the shadows and too much in the light.

 

Nick walks, finds the mansion, smells blood and carnage.

 

Nick falters, remembers ice and death, and sniffs the air again to see if anyone else is still alive.

 

Nick smells Mr. Big’s defining scent – sharp and cool and calm – and braces himself before entering a battlefield.

 

He did not expect an actual battlefield.

 

The dining hall is ruined, almost beyond repair, blood stains infused to the carpets, curtains tattered, glass everywhere. He tiptoes across the floor, mindful of the bloody footprints and glass shards decorating the floor. There are still some glass falling, in bits and pieces, glinting when the moon’s light hits.

 

Like a morbid lightshow.

 

He makes it across the room and nearly faints backwards on to the glass deathtrap when he hears a small throat clearing from out of his line of sight.

 

Nick slowly, steadily, turns to the source and grins with wobbly lips at the sight of Mr. Big.

 

He is small, tiny, actually, but Nick has never felt any larger than microscopic in the face of the shrew who can perhaps snuff out his entire existence with a flick of his pinky. There is a part of him, deep inside, pursing his lips and feeling green tint his eyes at such raw power, but the icy fingers of fear suffocate it into nothingness.

 

“Mr. Big,” Nick says, trying for charming and ending up choking out the name, “It’s me, Nick Wilde! Just in case you forgot. Which I’m not saying. You have a great memory, sir.”

 

Big stares on with a stony silence.

 

“ _Aaand_ I’m on time! So I don’t have to die!” Nick exclaims cheerfully, ignoring the way his knees shake and paws itch, “What do you need me for, sir?”

 

“…You had betrayed this Family, Nicholas,” Big starts, hardly moving in his throne, “And by doing so you have betrayed my trust. You know what happens to those who do so, yes?”

 

The shadows around Mr. Big. Lengthen to capture Nick’s, “Of course, sir,” he replies, inwardly throwing a small celebration when he doesn’t squeak.

 

Mr. Big nods, once, before speaking, “Then you should know that second chances are near miracles. Which you have right now.”

 

“Which I have right now,” Nick nods, too, fervently.

 

“Yes,” Mr. Big replies smoothly, “So can I expect you to do your utmost for this job I’m about to offer you?”

 

“Absolutely, sir,” Nick says firmly, feeling anything but, knowing he can’t show weakness still, “Tell me what I have to do.”

 

Minutes later, Nick blurts out, “That _cannot_ be possible.”

 

Big raises on brow, “Would you rather I show you the savage bunny then?”

 

Nick can admit he’s curious, the possibility of it hasn’t even crossed his mind, but here is his (ex?)boss, telling him of the unheard.

 

He wants to see it.

 

“Yes,” Nick says. Big stares at him, “….please,” he finishes.

 

“No,” Big replies, and Nick almost pouts, “Not yet, anyway. Do your job first then come back here. I’m giving you until 9 tomorrow.”

 

How generous. Nick nods once, before turning and high-tailing it out into the night once more.

 

He arrives at his destination, and cranes his head up to look at the City Hall looming over him with a certain sort of feel, like a prestigious castle built inside high walls to keep those unworthy away.

 

Nick proceeds to be offended by his own metaphor and shakes his head to get back into game.

 

Right. His job.

 

He barely has had any sleep, has nothing but the clothes on his back, his phone in his pocket, and nearly 2o years’ worth of connections.

 

He has less than 24 hours to rest and recuperate, gather intel, choose which informants to contact, sneak in and sift through false documents.

 

He has no Finnick by his side to watch his back, surrounded by gaurds and cameras and probably infrared sensing devises, and no map to guide him through the building.

 

All in all, a whole lot better than Nick was expecting when he first got his text.

 

He rolls his neck to relieve himself of the cracks and crimps and steps forward.

* * *

 

Lovro tries to shut his eyes to defend against the waves of laughter heading his way by his own men.

 

He curls into himself, mumbling plans of murder, because he doesn’t want to stain his eyesight with the image of Kevin in the far background holding up a camera.

 

 _This family sucks_ , he thinks, and promises each and every one of them a bloody, painful death.

 

“Do you have the antidote?” one deep, rumbling voice asks him from below as he swings precariously over a height that can kill him. Lovro feels someone poke at the strings of the net with a claw and he hisses out, “ _Yes._ ”

 

“Hand it over.”

 

“Get me down first.”

 

“I don’t hear a please.”

 

“ _I’d rather carve out my own throat._ ”

 

“Shame,” the voice says, and Lovro now remembers whose voice it belongs to. He peeks out from where he’s pulled his ears over his eyes and sees Koslov looking at him with an infuriating sense of amusement.

 

“Antidote,” Koslov says again, and Lovro sneers at him.

 

“Antidote,” someone repeats, and Lovro sees his previously hidden boss sitting on Koslov’s shoulder. Lovro blanches and immediately throws it over.

 

Raymond, standing to the side, squints at the scene (the Patagonian rabbit entrapped inside a net filled with leaves and Koslov along with their boss standing beside the pathetic sight) and thinks, _oh._

_So that’s what the princes and Ms. Hopps were doing last time._

“Give this to Ms. Hopps,” Mr. Big says, handing the vial to Kevin, who quickly takes it while hiding his camera from view.

 

Kevin nods, looks over to Lovro over the mass of scattering men, who _need to go back to their jobs, dammit_ , and smirks. Lovro replies with his usual amount of grace and delicacy: “ _Fuck off!_ ”


	6. incipere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha didn't think you'd see this one again, eh? Transition chapter again, though. Just to help me get back into the swing of things.

Nick arrives, wheezing as he drags himself over the newly buffed floors of the Big mansion. One of the Big mansions. _Fuck_ that guy was rich.

 

Evidently too, as the dining room that had been previously thrashed beyond repair is standing before him in pristine condition. Unlike him, bruised and bleeding and only slightly dead.

 

But. His paws are clinging to incriminating evidence, his phone buzzing with eager contacts, all going _oh we all want to please Mr. Big._

Suck-ups, Nick laughed to himself, the lot of them all.

 

Including himself, but that’s beside the point.

 

Nick twitches, groans, finally arsed enough to get up when Koslov trudges through the doors. He wobbles on his feet, one of his eyelids is dropping, but he hands out both the folder and the phone.

 

Koslov quirks an eyebrow at his appearance, but nothing more, and takes the items out of his paws as Nick collapses face-first into newly buffed dining floors.

 

Koslov rolls his eyes, then brings out his walkie-talkie from his breast pocket and goes, “Prepare a cot in the infirmary. Wilde has returned.”

 

The voice on the other end murmurs out a static response, before the device is clicked closed and Koslov places it back. He takes Nick by his arms and slings the fox over his shoulder easily enough, and starts walking deeper into the mansion.

 

The mansion is larger than it seems. All of the Big manors are larger than they seem.

 

For instance, no one has ever found any room beyond the dining room, the living room, and the foyer without assistance due to the deliberately confusing design of the interior. Big had paid much money to do so, but it pays well for the Family until today.

 

Animals of all species, predator _and_ prey, pass by him in a long, winding corridor, doors on each side either leading to a gruesome death or another tricky hall to pass.

 

They do not look at him, do not even so much as brush him in the halls. Koslov does’t mind. He reaches the end of the hall and pulls out a card and has it scanned, before pulling out his paw and placing it over the scanner.

 

“Access Code: 8-7-8-6-6-2-5-9-8-0,” Koslov rumbled, “Guest: 0-0-0-8-2-1-1.”

 

The door swings open and Big greets him on the shoulder of Lovro, who waves casually at the bear. Koslov grunts in response, setting the intel gathered on Big’s desk and moving Wilde to a cot near Hopps’.

 

“Come, Koslov,” Big murmurs, and Koslov promptly complies, scooping the shrew onto his shoulder, “Lovro, attend to our guests while we’re away.”

 

“Well, sure,” Lovro replies, sticking a finger into his ear, “But what about the princess?”

 

“My daughter knows better than to leave unsupervised,” Big says, an then both he and his giant bodyguard leaves Lovro to two near-catatonic meatbags.

 

”This is gonna be fucking _boring.”_

* * *

 

Three hours later, Lovro is dying, decaying on the floor from inactivity.

 

Then a soft groan comes out, and Lovro almost laughs from sheer relief. He gets up and sees that it is the rabbit who wakes first, rolling around in her cot, dangerously close to the edge. Lovro positions himself to get a better view when she rolls out with a short cry and lands in a heap of half-dead bunny.

 

Lovro starts clapping, “A-plus landing, that.”

 

“Oh shut up,” bunny hisses, and gets up to see his gigantic frame towering over hers.

 

She gapes. Lovro puffs out his chest and goes, “take a picture, if you’d like.”

 

She immediately recoils in disgust. Lovro counts that as a win.

 

“Who are you?” she demands, like she’s in any position to do so. Lovro nearly laughs at her face, “Saferoom, sweety,” he drawls out, crossing his arms, “In the Big mansion. Unless those Nighthowlers mess with memories too?”

 

“Night—?” she stops, and Lovro waves a lazy paw in the air, “Y’know, that shit that looked like blueberries? That ring any bells?”

 

She stays silent, and Lovro sighs, scratching at the area just behind his ears, “Look, love, you’d best rest up and wait for the boss to get back if you want any questions. Same goes for Nicky over there.”

 

And then she notices, and when she does, her reaction is priceless. Lovro can only wish that the cameras managed to capture the beautiful disaster that was Judy Hopps screaming up a blue storm, waking both Nick Wilde, someone down the hall, and several birds outside, who all spit at the window with a rude gesture before flying off.

 

“Whoa now gorgeous,” Lovro drawls when Wilde looks like he’s about to jump out the window, “You think you can get away with another offense against the boss?”

 

And Nick pales so hard he nearly faints back on his bed. Then he gains his bearings and notices the other, smaller bunny in the room staring at him in blatant mistrust.

 

Lovro smiled, “I’ll leave you two to your reunion then. Unless you don’t want any water?”

 

“Water please,” Judy croaks out, holding a paw against her throat while Nick merely nods at the Patagonian rabbit.

 

Lovro gives the two of them a lazy thumbs-up before striding out the door, leaving the two to stare at each other in a sudden spike of awkwardness.

 

Inwardly, Judy cries just a bit, because of course things could get worse.

 

_Of course._

* * *

 

“What’s the verdict?” Big asks around his cigar, blowing out a trail of smoke to the side. Koslov grunts and goes, “Both guests shall be fine. The princess is heading there now.”

 

“Wonderful. And the sheep?”

 

Rright here, sir,” and Koslov guides him towards the holding cells, passing by several sheep, all who sneer and heckle at the passing bear. Koslov doesn’t react.

 

They reach the end of the dungeon and sees the ringleader, a tiny thing. Big grunts and puts out his cigar before pulling out a walkie-talkie from his jacket and says, “We’re at Prisoner 6-2-7. Commence interrogation. Level 3.”

 

There were levels, levels of what kind of methods to use and how much paint to inflict. Level 0 was for civilians, and anything above two ended in severe mutilation.

 

And judging by the sheep’s face she knew that too.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Does this mean I'm getting kicked out of the fandom?
> 
> Edit:  
> Edited to make it present tense cause I just wasn't feelin' the past tense gig.


End file.
